To My Daughter

Dearest Annabel,

You are the sweetest thing. You are so cute I can't stand it. You are kind and loving. What a joy you are. What remarkable proof of God's grace to us. You are a precious gift.

And that is what is keeping me from SELLING YOU TO THE CIRCUS.

They're hiring, you know.

You have so many key skills for the circus life. What a star of the show you'd be! The Strong Man has nothing on you. What superhuman strength you demonstrate every time I have to put you in your carseat though you DON'T WANT TO GOOOOO! (And how mightily you cling to said carseat when we finally arrive.) What an amazing feat of dexterity you show when I try to pry something sharp or breakable from your wee hands!

And forget acts like the Bearded Lady or the World's Tallest Man. I can see the sign now: "WORLD'S LOUDEST TODDLER!" That high-pitched shriek you emitted at the grocery store last week was a thing to behold. People will gather in amazement to see (and hear) you. Folks without kids won't be able to believe that such a sound could come from such a small person. Those with children will be unable to look away--much like with a carwreck--but will then sigh with relief and congratulate themselves that it's not their kid making that unholy noise.

Trapeze artists? Boring, compared to your ability to virtually disembowel your bedroom furnishings while you're supposed to be napping. The curtains torn from the window and strewn on the floor! The stuffed animals tossed about and looking like a psychedelic crime scene! The drawers of drawers (ha!) emptied and crammed in every nook and cranny of your room! And you, bouncing on the bed like the little monkey you are.

Yes, it's truly amazing how an entire three-ring circus can be housed in one small body.

Of course, you wouldn't be alone in your new circus life. Mommy and Daddy have become quite good at lion taming, you know. We would wear splendid outfits (machine washable) and top hats and use stickers and threats and pleadings and prayers ("Lord, help me not to PUT THIS CHILD IN A BOX and mail her to the zoo") to keep your ferocious self at bay. Audiences would ooh! and ahh! to see us dance around your flailing, kicking, screaming form. They would gasp in wonder at our ability to avoid being bitten or mauled by our little tigress. Crowds would gather from miles around to see you go from 0 to 60 and back again in mere minutes.

We would make a fortune. Come to think of it, maybe we should just invite people into our house to watch the antics. We can sell tickets at the door, which would save us the trouble of having to travel from city to city. "Hi diddly dee! It's the circus life for meeeeee!"

Oh, Annabel. What entertainment we have around this house, 7 nights a week.

Heaven help us,

Your adoring Ring Masters

To Our Children

NOTE: No, I am NOT pregnant. So quit squealing and read on (mmm hmmm, Mom).

Dearest Little Bit,

It's been just over three years since we first learned of your existence, and it is just short of three years since we learned that meeting you in person was not to be. How hard that was! How we grieved. We miss you still, but this year for the month of October--Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month--the grief is less sharp and our joy is less shaky. It would have been so amazing to see your chubby arms and legs, to play with your wee toes and fingers, even to fumble through clouds of exhaustion to change your diapers. I don't think we realized just how much we had lost until your sibling came along. The first Christmas that we hung your ornament on the tree, our arms were still so empty and aching. Yet it was a different type of ache when we looked at little Annabel and hung your tiny ornament from the tree two years later. Realizing what we had lost, that you should have been hovering over your baby sister, showing her the shiny tree that We Do Not Touch.

I think the Christmas before we had felt an unspoken guilt over our excitement at your sibling growing in my belly, the way you never could. Perhaps this year at Christmas we will feel yet another emotion as we watch Annabel's distinct personality continue to emerge. An awareness that Annabel is, and never could be, your replacement, but rather that she could have been a complement to you. It's that "could have been" that still stings--the cry of our hearts that things aren't the way that they're supposed to be, that primal realization that all is not right with the world.

Yet what precious joy you did bring us for those couple of months and what precious grace we received from those around us after we lost you. (Thank you, dear friends, for carrying us in prayer and tangibly helping us during that time!) I still marvel at how having to learn to let you go has made me a better mother for your sister as I strive daily to trust her to God's care. And what bittersweet joy I have found in being able to step through that place of continual healing to minister to others as the consequences of a fallen world wreak havoc on us all. Is it blasphemy or merely desperation to thank God that at least you were spared all that? Perhaps both... yet God is big enough to handle it all.

So on the 15th, we'll light a candle for you. Are you swinging on heaven's gates? Perhaps. Maybe you are just resting, waiting with all the saints for the triumphant return of Christ. Either way, we send our love to you and thank God for your precious little life.

Love, Mommy & Daddy

Dearest Annabel,

How you melt our hearts with all the sweet things you do! How much you crack us up at your antics--even the ones that showcase just how sinful man can be. What joy we've had over the past 16 months (Happy Birthday, darling) of getting to know you more. We ask God's blessings over your little life and are breathless with gratitude for your presence in our lives. Rest well, sweetheart--you have a full day tomorrow of playing and eating and testing our patience and melting our hearts all over again.

Love,

Mommoo and Daddoo

Precious Future Children,

Some of you are probably still that proverbial "twinkle in the eye," so we pray for God's providence in bringing you into our lives eventually. Perhaps some of you are already born, or will be born not with us, and adoption paperwork will bring you to us. If so, we pray now for your protection, your guidance, your childlike awareness of a good God. For all of you, we pray that God will continue to grow us in our parenting skills (poor guinea pig Annabel!) that we might be better equipped to help you grow and to soothe hurts and bring about healing where needed.

Perhaps you will come to us broken by the world, or with poor health, or perhaps, like wee Little Bit, we will know you for only a short time. We pray that will not be the case with any of you. Regardless, we ask God's blessing over your souls--that he has known since before the foundation of time--and rejoice to know that he loves you more than we ever could. And we believe in him for your lives and growth, and ask him to help our unbelief. So get ready, wee ones. You are going to have some kooky parents that love you wholeheartedly.

Much love,

Mom & Dad

And a note to the Father--thank you for making us your children, your heirs. Grant us the patience and the grace to show your love to our children and to point the way to you. And... thank you for the couple of hours each night between Annabel's bedtime and ours! It is awfully nice to talk as adults and not be preoccupied with what she's sticking in her mouth, what she's doing to the cat or what we can do to not go insane reading Brown Bear, Brown Bear for the millionth time...

Gratefully,

Two of Your Children

To Our New Home State

Dear Mississippi,

Well, here we are, two months later. It's been a blur since we first saw that "WELCOME TO MISSISSIPPI" sign and realized that it was welcoming us as residents, not visitors. But I have to say that I really do like you, Mississippi, and I'm glad we're here. If it couldn't be Atlanta, GA, I'm glad it's you.

Love,

Those Crazy Yankees in Clinton

Dear Michael,

I love that you were our unofficial welcoming committee. I love that you came up with the abandon of a 10 year-old to tell us that you used to live here and that Jayden, who lives next door, is your best friend 'cause you've known each other "like forever." I love that you are white and Jayden is black and that's not an issue. I kept hearing about the brutal past of Mississippi--and I know it's true--but as you grow and learn about yourself and your state, I hope you see just how awesome your friendship is. How important and right it is, and how much it means to see two little boys judging each other not by the "color of their skin but by the content of their character" and pronouncing the other to be friend and brother. Love love love it. So come over and play in our yard anytime. Come visit and say hello to Annabel. And thanks for welcoming us in so many ways.

Love,

Those folks with the cute baby that live in your old house which is really different now, gosh, it's really nice and did you know about riding bikes and selling cookie dough and...

Dear Toni,

So you read my first post, eh? Hee hee hee--that's a reminder and a reality check that this thing is actually available to the world via the interwebs (and not just in my head). So I'm glad I told the truth in that first post, which is that Pentimento rocks and is a great "third place." You asked me how we're doing--that now we've been here awhile, what hasn't lived up to expectations, where is the bloom off the rose? Honestly, nowhere. (Except perhaps the worst of the summer weather.) We've been welcomed by and plugged into this community so much already and we love it. So thanks for asking, which is just proof of how great this place is. See you next week!

Much love,

The Bibliophiles in Huntcliff

Dear Redeemer Presbyterian,

Home. We're home. A vibrant, multi-ethnic community that has welcomed us with open arms. Amazing preaching. Unbelievable music. Great nursery. There is one problem, though. I tend to idolize churches. It's a bad habit of mine. So if you could not be quite so awesome, that would be great. No? Dang. Okay, then. God's grace is big enough to help me stay focused on him.

Thanks be to God,

Right side, 10th row back (we're creatures of habit)

Dear Walker's Drive-In, Sal & Mookie's, The Pizza Shack, Julep, etc.,

Yum yum yum. I see that it won't be much easier here to stay on budget with eating out. So much goodness for the taking. We look forward to discovering more local delights!

Thanks,

The couple who tips well because their cute baby throws food all over the floor.

Dear The Orange Peel,

Oh, consignment store goodness. I love my new dress--I feel so Julia Roberts at the racetrack in Pretty Woman in it. I think I need a matching hat. Perhaps next time I come in? And the name, I love the store name. Fondren is such a cool section of town. Thanks for being there.

Whoo hoo!

Ch

Dear Mississippi College, Jackson State, University Medical Center, etc.,

Well, here I am. Send me your poor, your tired, your over-educated masses. I'm ready to serve!

Thank you,

Chandra Crane

Campus Staff, Graduate & Faculty Ministries

InterVarsity Christian Fellowship/USA

Associate Staff, Christian Legal Society

Jackson Metro Area

Dear Dr. Crane,

Well, here we are. Big, roomy, clean apartment. A little more money to spare. Time to spend with each other. We've come a long way in the past couple of months, eh? How God has provided for us since I last wrote. Thanks for bringing us here. We love you and it's so so true that Home Is Where the Heart Is.

Love Always,

Chandra and your Borgleboo

Clinton, Mississippi (who knew?)

To the Bels

Dearest Annabel,

I meant to write you while I was pregnant, but I was too busy talking to my belly and sleeping a lot. I meant to write you while you were a newborn, but I was too busy realizing I was in over my head and not sleeping much at all. I meant to write you on your 6 month birthday, but got distracted playing airplane with you. I meant to write you on your first birthday, but things were too nuts with your Daddoo's PhD and your birthday party.

So, I figure--heck, why not? I'll write you on your 12 month, 2 week, 5 day birthday. I did manage to peg the time, anyway. 9:41 pm--not something I'll ever forget, although the hours following sure were a blur!

So what do I want to say to my sweet daughter who is so adorable that you give me an ice cream headache of cuteness? My thoughts drift to your (long) upcoming teenage years... blergh. I have high hopes that we will have a good relationship, but I realize there are times you won't like your parents (and me especially!) very much. You'll be fairly sure that we're idiots and are only out to ruin your fun. When that happens, I hope a part of your hormone-riddled brain can process some important things:

1. We do love you, but we are idiots. It's true. You thought I was going to say that we're not idiots? It's only God's grace that helps us to parent you. However, we are less of idiots than you are, since we've seen more of life and made more mistakes. So we get to be in charge. Sorry. If you really can't stand us, maybe there's some other nice family out there who will take you in until you're 18?

2. Sarcasm can indeed be a love language. It's also a coping mechanism. It can also be a bit much... and it's a fine line between funny and harsh. Sorry. If you really can't stand the lovingly sarcastic environment, may I suggest that you watch an episode of "Leave It to Beaver?"

3. About us being out to ruin your fun--actually, we are. It's payback for the sleepless nights, the poo-splosions, no longer having a life, the drain on our finances and the unholy amount of soggy Cheerios I've had to pick up off the floor. Sorry. If it really makes you mad, hold out for when we get old and you can get your own payback by putting us in a low-rent nursing home.

4. For all that we can be no-fun, lame duck parents, I hope you've had some fun over the years. I see these years, where a funny face is all that it takes to crack you up, slipping away all-too-quickly and am both afraid and looking forward to the challenge of finding new ways to make you smile (after I've made you cry with my responsible disciplinary measures). I know we've said "no" a lot--perhaps more than we've said "yes." Sorry. If you can just hold on, soon you'll be all grown up and we can all have fun again squabbling over how you never call and we send noisy toys to the grandkids.

Hang on a second--there's sarcasm dripping down the computer screen and I need to clean it up. I'll be right back.

Okay, sweet Annabel--borgleboo, child of mine, preciousness, monkeybuns (and all the other ridiculous things I call you)--as it says in your Sandra Boynton book:

I love you and love you.

And love you and love you.

And love you and love you.

No matter how sarcastic I get, how hectic life is, or how aggravated you are with me, never doubt that.

Love,

Your Mommoo

To a my Newest Westside Find

Dear Hankook Taqueria,

Well, now you've gone and done it. You've joined the ranks of Octane and Gato Bizco by being so delicious and fantastic that my head exploded. The Bulgogi taco... the sesame fries... the bibimbop...!

Why is this a problem, you ask? Well, sweet hole-in-the wall purveyor of Korean-fusion goodness, thanks to you, I'm going to have to stage a protest--a "live-in," if you will. I'm going to chain myself to a tree in Piedmont Park, and I AM NOT LEAVING. I will stay here in Atlanta, chained to that tree, so that I may enjoy your culinary offerings whenever I...

Crap. There appears to be a flaw in my plan. Namely, the whole "chained to a tree" part. Hm...

I've got it! Take two:

I'm going to chain myself to a tree on wheels (bwa ha!) And I AM NOT LEAVING. Yes, yes, that should solve the problem. Excellent. Rain or shine! In the most humid of summers and bitterest of winters, I will stay here in this city I love. No matter the weather...

Dang. There's still the whole "living under a tree" aspect. Hmm...

Are you interested in expanding your new empire and opening a location in Clinton, MS?

Love and Kimchee,
Me and my stomach.

To My Coworker

Dear Future Staff at Emory,

(Whoever you are)

My loss is your gain, friend. I am so excited for you to receive this--is it too cocky to say?--inheritance of the fruit of my labor over the past 5+ years. I wish I could pass on all of the students and faculty I've had the privilege of working with, but many of them have gone on to bigger and better things. It's funny to realize that they don't all know each other, except through me. I often forget that some of them haven't overlapped with each other in their time at Emory--it just feels like one big family, to me.

It is my family, which is why it's hard to leave. These faculty and students are my co-laborers in seeing God's kingdom come (on earth as it is in heaven), as well as my accomplices in crime. We've prayed, eaten, laughed, studied, wept, eaten some more, and shared life with each other, and that leaves a mark that doesn't fade away. You are inheriting some great people.

So, fellow staff worker, as much as it will hurt (and perhaps be slightly weird) to think of things continuing after my departure, that is, of course, what I am praying and hoping for--and I expect a full report each year at our national staff conference. I want to rejoice with you about what spiritual breakthrough that such-and-such has had. I want to laugh uproariously about what you-know-who said. I want to weep with you--as I have wept with them--over the heartache in their lives and wait expectantly with you to see God's redemption. I want the bittersweet joy of hearing great things about the GFM work at Emory that I am not there to take part in.

These are my sheep, fellow staff worker, and so my first instinct is to say that you had better take good care of them (or else!). But I realize that attitude doesn't allow room for you to love and shepherd them as I have. That attitude doesn't let go of them, as I must; nor does it allow you to take on the primary role of staff worker/shepherd in their lives. I must not try to lead them by proxy through you. It's your turn now, to learn all about them, to become fiercely loyal to and protective of them.

It's also time for me to be reminded that things will look very different under your leadership. I have to remember that your care for these students and faculty will most likely not be as gregarious as mine, and that not only is that "okay," it's the way it should be. You have things to offer them that I don't, so I am grateful for them to receive those gifts and guidance from you.

I will throw a few tidbits of advice your way--take 'em or leave 'em:

1. Food, food & more food. But I think that goes without saying. I apologize for getting them spoiled to expect munchies!

2. You don't have to do your "office hours" at Octane in the Village... but please don't stoop to doing Starbucks. Blegth!

3. You can't avoid these topics during discussions: politics, evolution, vaccines, women in combat. But you can be prepared for some entertaining fireworks.

4. Did I mention food?

and finally,

5. Take the students and faculty up on their offers to help--not just with the campus work, but in life. They are a good bunch, and they love to serve.

Enjoy this wonderful, zany, unpredictable, fabulous group. Welcome to the family.

Much love,

Chandra Crane

(for now) Campus Staff Member, Emory University

Chapter Planting Cohort v. 2.0

bringer of snacks and the Word

To Our Home... for now

Dear Atlanta,

We are going to miss you. Bwagh! It is going to be hard to leave. But we are determined to enjoy the time we have left here, and wanted to let our friends know what we've got going on in the coming months, both for purposes of prayer, as well as planning:

Mid-may: Chandra finishes the semester at Emory and prepares to set up for summer and then leave in June.

Late May or early June: Kennan finishes writing his dissertation and defends his PhD

June 12th: Annabel's First Birthday Party! More details to come.

Late June: we move to Clinton, MS

August 7th: we'll be back in town as Kennan walks at GT Graduation and we'll be having a party to celebrate that evening at (where else?) Octane Coffee

Okay, Atlanta. We've got just a few months left, but we know you won't disappoint. Bring it on!

Much love,

Those Crazy Cranes in Midtown

Ch, Kennan & AnNaBeL